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Obsession

I want to be obsessed. I know, I know, it seems like a ridiculous wish and notion. After all, being obsessed with someone or something is probably a horrible idea. We have all seen the movies and tv shows, heard the songs, and are familiar with the stories of obsession and how they usually end. Still, I want to be enthralled and consumed to the point of exclusion. I want to become so obsessed that I become a hermit ignoring the world around as long as I can be with the object of my passions. I want the world to revolve, evolve, and continue without me leaving me and my beloved alone to get to know one another on a deeper and more intimate level. However, the supple curvature of a well rounded and defined form hold no appeal to me nor the blush of rosy cheeks nor the softness of pink lips (at the moment). I want to become engrossed with this; with writing.

I want to form words into sentences that fill blank pages upon pages with stories and ideas. I want to create rhymes and lines that entertain masses bringing smiles to their faces and tears to their eyes. I want to paint full unique pictures and portraits with the brushes and colors provided by similes and metaphors. I want to weave epics and narratives with the meager tools that I have. I want to be so immersed in writing and words that my right hand becomes deformed and withered to the point that only a pen can fit in it. i want to have early carpal tunnel syndrome due to my hands working so long on my keyboard. I want to arrive at the point where I want to write so badly that I lose friends, family, sleep, and straddle the line of sanity pushing my mind and body to jot down just one more word.

I am afraid that one day I will somehow manage to get to that point. That I will truly lose myself in this obsession and exclude the world.

I am even more frightened that I might never get there. I am unsure which is the worse fate.